


Coffee & Lollipops

by DeathByBobaTea



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela was a child prodigy, Gen, Jesse McCree & Genji Shimada Are Best Friends, Mccree is smarter than he looks, Now shes older and maybe let that insecurity affect her work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:17:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByBobaTea/pseuds/DeathByBobaTea
Summary: A thin silence falls over the room and Genji finds that he suddenly doesn’t care what she thinks of the gift. Three days and the stupid promise it took to get it for nothing.He hates her. Hates her smile and her science. Any sympathy he’d mustered up in the past week is wiped clean. He wants her to choke on her caramel fucking cappuccino and when she’s lying there dead, he’d riffle through her fucking pockets for the petty cash it took to buy it for her.





	Coffee & Lollipops

     After vigorous research (Two whole days of waiting for a pause in Reinhardt's constant stream of impossible adventures he guaranteed were completely real, sneaking off base at two in the morning to get a package from Torbjorn’s second eldest that gotten accidentally sent to the other side of fucking Spain, and promising on Jesse’s life that he would never teach Fareeha how to throw shuriken to get Ana to talk to him) Genji had finally found out that Dr. Ziegler liked caramel cappuccinos.

     Yeah, turns out the good doctor had never less friends here than Genji did. Go figure.

     Speaking of friends, Jesse owed him at least three days of his life back and also he would be teaching _him_ how to throw shuriken so _he_ could teach Fareeha because knowing how to shoot that rare as fuck revolver wasn’t gonna do her any good. All of this was Jesse’s fault. And maybe that wasn’t exactly true and Genji knew it but...that wasn’t gonna stop him.

     Jesse, in true Jesse fashion (atrocious, by the way, but it earned looks of disgust from Reyes so Genji approved), had been bleeding out on the floor of the transport, trying to light a cigarette he bummed off Devika with shaking fingers rather than put pressure on the hole in his fucking thigh, while rambling distractedly about Dr. Ziegler.

     “What’s, like, the cut off for child prodigies, do ya’think?” He’d nearly dropped the lighter into his own lap while he fumbled with it.

     Genji had been too distracted tearing the red ribbon off its place on his helm and twisting it around the stupid cowboy’s thigh to answer so he turned towards the pilot’s compartment to look for a response, “17, or whatever the legal age is these days, it seems too old. When do they stop calling ‘em child prodigies? 15, you figure?”

     “Uh,” There was a low thunderous crash somewhere to their left and Genji had to catch Jesse before he could be thrown across the ship. Whatever had hit the ship apparently wasn’t worrisome enough to stop Devika from humoring him, “Legal age’s 18, McCree. 17’s still young.”

     “Really? Thought it was 17. When did Angie join up? I mean, the first time, the internship?”

     “There was an internship?”

     “Well, Torb had her come give the place a look for a couple months, prolly scouting an’ shit, trying to convince her to join up proper when she finished doctor training.”

     Genji honestly doesn’t know if he genuinely doesn’t know the word for medical school or if he does it just to get a glare out of him. He maybe ties the edges of the ribbon together with a sharper jerk than strictly necessary just to make sure the lighter’s fragile flame doesn’t manage to find the edge of the cigarette.

     “Oh, yeah, uh, she was 16 or 17 then. 20 when she officially joined.”

     Another low crash that neither were apparently bothered by.

     “She’s 26 now. Doesn’t look a day over 20 though, some experiment that had a few effects she wasn’t expecting.” Devika huffed bitterly as she adds, “If the reports are to believed. Swear to god, Jess, I spend a full fucking hour in the mornings layering all these age-defying creams and shit and getting my goddamn wings straight and then I see Ziegler in the middle of a firefight looking _like that!_ ”

     “‘Nuff to make only your wings straight, huh?”

     The pilot laughs and there are a string of shrill beeps before she appears in the doorway between compartments, eyeliner smudged down one cheek and red first aid kit in hand as she settles down besides her teammates, “Jokes on you cowboy, neither me nor my wings were ever straight.”

     They both laugh like nothing’s wrong while Genji tears through the kit for a spare bioemmitter and Devika calls McCree’s injury in so the aforementioned doctor can be ready on the tarmac in anticipation of their arrival.

     While Devika talks, Jesse finally manages to light the cigarette and wears it down to half its length in only a few deep breaths. Apparently Devika had shit taste in makeup _and_ cigarette brands. What black ops agent didn’t wear waterproof eyeliner?

     “You know, I think that report thing’s getting to her.”

     This part is directed more towards Genji, he’d known by the softer tone Jesse’s voice had taken, like they were swapping secrets.

     “Used to care ‘bout the people first and achievements second but this report shit’s got her forgetting that.”

     Genji had replied by shoving a needle into the underside of McCree’s knee and winking at him when he yelped.

 

* * *

 

     Jesse McCree, despite the spurs and hat, wasn’t an idiot. When he gave orders, the rest of the team knew to listen if they wanted to make it to extraction. Commander Reyes had him report first and leave debriefings last and if the speed at which the Deadlock gang’s size had been whittled down to next to dust said anything, the trust he placed in McCree’s advice was well placed. Jesse was a good soldier, Genji had never doubted that, but he knew better than most he made a good friend too.

     Not that Genji had done anything to deserve that but he at least listened when Jesse hinted about Dr. Ziegler.

 

     So, here he was, a large caramel cappuccino in hand, what was left of his stomach doing flips within the confines of synthetic mesh and replacement organs, staring daggers into the smooth gleam of the med bay’s double doors.

 

     “Agent Shimada,” A neutral voice sounded from above him, “Would you like me to alert Dr. Zeigler that you have arrived for your appointment?”

 

     Appointment. Like these were check ups or flu shots, not a scientist requesting a favored research subject to report so it could be taken apart and reassembled.

 

     “Yes. Thank you, Athena.” Genji swallowed the dread filling his chest down and pushed through the doors.

     He had agreed to this, he reminded himself. Mostly because why would be care if she wrote some medical case study about prosthetics as long as she didn’t include his name? He had been trying to get his new legs to respond to him at the time, a medical journal really wasn’t something he gave a shit about.

     He hadn’t realized that weekly ‘appointments’ had been part of that deal. And frankly, it was about fifty chapters too damn late to say no at this point.

     Genji had no idea how large the rest of the med bay was though he had heard Ana comment that Gilbritar had the largest out of all the watchpoints, but he knew the twists and turns required to find his way to the room he was expected to report to. He knew the way to the prosthetic department, surgery rooms, recovery wings, the specific walkways of the extensive research wing to keep from getting lost, and to Ziegler’s offices. He probably knew his way around better than any non-medical agent on base and maybe even better than a few medical ones. Knew it well enough to know he didn’t know it.

 

     Ziegler was already there by the time he arrived, sterile smile in its usual place. Her smile had the feel of medical equipment, strategically warmed to just the right temperature to ensure a patient doesn’t flinch away at the wrong moment. Genji always told himself it was just a trained association but if Jesse saw it too, maybe she was just like that.

 

     “Good morning, Genji. There shouldn’t be much to do this time. If all goes as planned, we should have you out of here in under two hours.”

 

     Genji doesn’t reply because he has absolutely nothing good he could possibly say to that.

 

     Her eyes catch on the cup clenched in his synthetic hand, her psuedo-smile losing its hold on her face, “Genji, you know that caffeine is not processed well by your-”

 

     “Oh, uh, no, it’s for you.” He’s looking down at the paper cup in his hands too, just staring at it like it will somehow give him to strength to move close enough to the person going to spend the next two hours ripping him apart in the name of science and hand it to her, “I heard you liked this kind.”

     A thin silence falls over the room and Genji finds that he suddenly doesn’t care what she thinks of the gift. Three days and a stupid promise for nothing. He hates her. Hates her smile and her science. Any sympathy he’d mustered up over the past week is wiped clean. He wants her to choke on her caramel fucking cappuccino and when she’s lying there dead, he’ll riffle through her fucking pockets for the petty cash it took to buy it for her.

     When she steps closer to take it from him, she doesn’t comment on the indents his fingers left on it.

     He’s released an hour later. Her smile seems sadder. What he saw of it anyways; Genji practically ran out as soon as he was allowed to.

  
  


* * *

  


     Three weeks later, there’s a new bowl taking up room on the corner of her desk when Genji shows up for their standing maintenance/research appointment. The fourth cup of coffee in his hands, because Jesse had only agreed to shuriken training if he kept bring them. Not because the cowboy’s face had been filled to the brim with a proud beam when Genji had told him. Not that. Though, maybe, Genji sort of wanted to be someone McCree didn’t have to regret being friends with.

     Genji only noticed the bowl because, besides the coffee, there was never anything non-medical in the rooms he was sequestered during the appointments. The bowl was a ghastly explosion of tie dye and the visual embodiment of buyer’s remorse and was filled to the brim with lollipops and stickers, like something you’d see on a receptionist’s desk in a pediatrician’s office.

     Ziegler didn’t bring it up until the two hours was over and Genji was sitting up and clicking the many many parts of his mouth and throat back together.

     The bowl was shoved under his nose with enough force to make him jerk back and nearly drop his mandible into it.

     “New policy.” She announced, some tenuous warmth in her smile when he shot a questioning look up at her, “Well behaved patients get prizes.”

     An impulse lurking in the back of his head tells him to slam the bowl to the ground and scream at her that _this???_ A string of fucking _stickers_ was supposed to make up for...for, fuck! For everything! The fact that Ziegler had decided to take out his liver because it was just more efficient than waiting to see if his body would try to reject it and replace it later. Or that he’d lost another rib because she decided it might critically damage his reinforced spine if it was broken. Or the hours he spent every week on a slab, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think about how one of his limbs was across the room in her hands and, when he couldn’t do that, at least trying to convince himself that he couldn’t feel her touch as she realigned the joints.

     But, instead, he replies slowly, like he’s trying not to spook a scared animal (whether it’s himself or Ziegler, he doesn’t know):

     “Well behaved? I think...I think Commander Reyes and Captain Amari would say otherwise.”

     She chuckles and shakes the bowl in front of him again invitingly, “Well, I think McCree and Fareeha’s opinions are just as valuable.”

     Genji takes a red lolipop. The joke is that he doesn’t really have a mouth, the metal mandible lining up perfectly with his upper jaw and designed to stay exactly there while the voice synthesizer in his throat speaks. He gives it to Fareeha while they watch McCree do surprisingly well with his shurikens. It turns her lips red and she laughs when McCree shows her on his camera and says it looks like lipstick. Genji makes a note to get a purple one next time because Fareeha'll look good in something dark.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Angela cares, she just forgot to for a while. Genji and her will get better.


End file.
